Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Kosovo and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in London.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1962 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing Charles Mingus to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Y Pants. All the underground hits.
All kango's stein massive tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rhythim Is Rhythim record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fela Kuti record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
John Holt,
Darondo,
JFA,
Jacques Brel,
The Red Krayola,
Leonard Cohen,
Stockholm Monsters,
Harmonia,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Flash Fearless,
The Cure,
Black Bananas,
Barry Ungar,
La Düsseldorf,
Schoolly D,
Fad Gadget,
Crime,
Neu!,
The Gap Band,
The Residents,
Aural Exciters,
The Move,
Idris Muhammad,
Alphaville,
Shoche,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Davy DMX,
Joyce Sims,
Outsiders,
Chris & Cosey,
DJ Sneak,
The Tremeloes,
The Wake,
Blossom Toes,
Stetsasonic,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Ultravox,
Colin Newman,
Deadbeat,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Thee Headcoats,
Groovy Waters,
Bad Manners,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Gang Starr,
Kayak,
Lungfish,
David Bowie,
Bush Tetras,
cv313,
Smog,
James White and The Blacks,
Q and Not U,
Ralphi Rosario,
Reuben Wilson,
Bootsy Collins,
Cymande,
A Flock of Seagulls,
X-Ray Spex,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Busters,
Visage, Visage, Visage, Visage.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.